


The Aftermath of the War

by KubricksCube



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Horror, Post-Canon, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27006688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KubricksCube/pseuds/KubricksCube
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	The Aftermath of the War

* * *

* * *

Running away was all that Sandor Clegane could do at that moment. The defenses that they had put up outside and inside the walls of Winterfell were all for nothing, the Others had taken over easily once the Dothraki fell after engaging the dead in a straight fight. At first, they managed to fend off the wights who had run past the trenches. It was easy, it gave them time to breathe, until one wight mindlessly walked towards the fire, soon followed by the others.

What happened after that, Sandor could not recall. The only memory that he could remember was that of a northerner urging him to steal a horse and run away from the now ruined castle. Of course, he protested, he wanted to go and find Sansa. If he is to leave the North down to South, he'd leave with the woman whom he always loved.

"I don't know if Lady Sansa survived, the crypt have been overrun by the dead. Go now, all Northern men will stay and hold them off for as long as we can."

The words of that man rang repeatedly in his head as he made his stallion gallop away from Winterfell. A moon had passed since then.

When he stepped on the land of King's Landing, no sound can be heard even from a league away. This newfound eeriness made him unsettled, yet he continued to walk towards the Red Keep. Even if he hated the idea of seeing Cersei and his brother's face again, he must do what he could in order to save the remaining Kingdoms.

As he walked, Sandor thought about the days where fire is the only thing he feared. It wasn't a great one, but he'd rather be in front of fire of it rather than facing the wights who annihilated the North.

Almost steps away from the Great Hall, Sandor heard what it seems like a hound feasting on some carcass echoing on the walls of the castle. Swallowing the fear that is stuck in his throat, he carefully opened the doors of the throne room.

The place was dark, but some light was able to penetrate the dimness of it. A couple of steps, Sandor could barely see figures laying down on the floor, with the exception of one, who seems to be the source of the sound that he had heard earlier. Upon coming closer, the figure seems to be wearing a black cloak around it. It must have not noticed Sandor's arrival as it still kept on feeding off the body in front of it. 

With enough courage, Sandor slowly raised his axe made of dragonglass, ready to strike down the wight when he noticed the body that its been eating.

It was his brother.

Gasping, this made him stumble backwards. _Not good,_ he mused as the wight now turned to look at him. He hastily grabbed his axe to defend himself, even if his hands shook uncontrollably. The wight now stood and walked ever so slowly to where he is, bringing the cold with it. His breathing now became heavy as he knew there's no way he could fight for long if the wight called the others.

But the wight had stopped.

"Sandor?" He recognized the voice. Confused, he propped himself with one hand, squinting to see who was the figure that called his name. To his surprise, that familiar red hair flowed freely along with the wind while her eyes now shone an unusual bright blue that only the wights possessed. He did not understand why. Has Sansa been starved and was forced to eat out the dead?

As much as he tried, the words got stuck in his throat, unable to ask the woman he had loved in front of him. Sandor was sure it was her. It was his Sansa. And she was just staring at him, not moving.

Fear no longer conquered his body, yet his voice wouldn't return to him. He tried and tried, until after several attempts of speaking, he finally spoke the name that he always cherish.

"Little bird."

Feeling nothing but joy, he returned the smile that she gave him after hearing the name he gave her, though it soon vanished when he saw her smile widened. Her smile was far from lovely, it was now sinister. And that sight scared him to death. He managed to stand up and swing the axe that he held for so long before being stunned by a scream that was inhuman.

* * *

"Sandor!" Sansa shook her husband as the latter shook violently in his sleep. After a couple of hard slaps across his face, the scarred man now jolted awake from his slumber, beads of sweat formed in his forehead.

Sansa felt hopeless when he cowered from her touch, his eyes like a child. The maester had told her about the possibility of him having nightmares about the war that he had encountered, which was proven true when Sandor asked them to kill him instead of being turned into a wight. She thanked the maester and went on to focus on her lover.

For hours, Sansa stayed at a certain distance from Sandor, not wanting to scare the scarred man furthermore. Sandor never said a word, keeping silent and still. He watched Sansa with great caution, as if she is to turn into something more monstrous. It went on for a while, until she went in front of the hearth to put more logs that Sandor finally believed her.

He cried as she held him in her arms, stroking his now long brown hair. "It's over now my love," Sansa tried her best to reassure her husband, "the dead are long gone now, we killed them all. And so is your brother."

* * *

* * *


End file.
